


Always The Alpha

by ThatWeirdGirlWhoWrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Adding more tags as the story progresses, Emotional Manipulation, Isaac-centric, Multi, Peter being creepy, canon-level violence, not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWeirdGirlWhoWrites/pseuds/ThatWeirdGirlWhoWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"The light of the full moon framed Peter’s naked form as he rose from his grave like a demon from hell.<br/>He allowed himself a satisfied smirk. So far, his plan had worked out just the way he wanted."</i>
</p><p>How Season 2 could've gone if Peter had just been a little more cold-blooded than he already is.<br/>Starts at Ep. 2x09 "Party Guessed" and goes AU from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story happened because I absolutely LOVE Peter. Sure, he's pretty much insane, manipulating and definitely not to be trusted, but he's an awesome character to write.

 

 

**Prologue**

 

The light of the full moon framed Peter’s naked form as he rose from his grave like a demon from hell.

“I heard there was a party,” he said, his voice hoarse from weeks of being, well, _dead_. “Don’t worry,” he addressed Lydia who was kneeling on the old, dusty floorboards and stared up at Peter with mesmerized awe. Peter’s dry, chapped lips formed into a triumphant smirk at the sight. “I invited myself.”

The girl didn’t answer; she was still caught under Peter’s spell. All of this would feel like a dream in the morning.

Peter allowed himself another, satisfied smirk. So far, his plan had worked out just the way he wanted and Lydia had played her part perfectly, even if it wasn’t of her own accord. She was not only beautiful and intelligent, but also cunning and capable. Maybe Peter would keep her around and find further use for her.

But for now, there were other things to be taken care of.

Peter took a few careful steps. He was still weak; bones aching and muscles cramped from being confined in a small hole in the ground for weeks. He needed new energy, needed life, needed _power._ And fortunately there was a perfectly exploitable source of power lying on the floor right at Peter’s feet.

“Thank you for helping me come back to life, nephew,” he purred sweetly, crouching down next to Derek, who was barely conscious and still weakened from the wolfsbane powder Peter had Lydia use on him. “I’m sure you’re willing to do your favourite uncle another favour, aren’t you?”

A small, broken whisper escaped Derek’s lips, too low for humans to hear. “Peter… _don’t_ …”.

Peter’s dirty, mud-encrusted hand stroked Derek’s hair, softly, affectionately, as if he was trying to soothe a child. The two men locked eyes and Peter could see a hint of Talia’s warmth, her kindness and her inner strength in Derek’s face, a glimpse of the great Alpha Derek could have been someday.

Too bad he wouldn’t ever have a chance to grow into the role.

“I’m sorry,” Peter told Derek as the gentle stroke turned into a merciless grip on Derek’s hair. And for a moment, a very brief moment, as he pulled Derek’s head back and slashed his only living relative’s exposed throat – Peter actually _was_ sorry. Sorry that he was forced to erase the last of Talia’s blood from this earth. Sorry that he had to watch _another one_ of the kids he saw growing up die by his hands.  Sorry that he had come to be a monster.

But the moment didn’t last very long and soon even the faintest trace of regret was washed away by the intoxicating, overwhelming, all-consuming feeling of _Alpha._

Peter’s hand slipped down to Derek’s chest. He could feel his nephew’s heartbeat getting weaker and weaker until Derek softly, almost peacefully, let go off his last breath and his trembling hands stilled.

Without any expression on his face Peter stood again, carefully eyeing himself in one of the mirrors Lydia had set up to let the moonlight in. His eyes were as red as the blood on his hands.

Peter threw his head back and an ear-shattering howl echoed over Beacon Hills.


	2. Chapter 1

 

**Chapter 1**

 

Peter closed his mouth but the noise didn’t stop. There was another sound mixing with his roar, higher pitched, more piercing, but just as powerful.

He turned around to see Lydia, still kneeling, screaming her lungs out. Her eyes, filled with panic and confusion, were fixed on Peter who just smirked. _Finally._

With red eyes and exposed fangs he lunged towards the girl, causing her to stop her screaming and to desperately scramble towards the exit. She didn’t stand a chance against Peter’s werewolf speed, nor his supernatural strength. Within seconds Lydia was pinned against the wall, Peter’s claws grazing the soft skin of her throat.

“Now, will you stay quiet?” he asked softly.

“This is not real,” Lydia managed to say with quivering lips. There were tears of exhaustion in her eyes. “This is all in my head.”

Peter’s smile was cold when moved his fingers to the side of her neck, expertly found an acupressure point and _pressed._

“Not this time, sweetheart,” he said, but Lydia couldn’t hear him anymore – she was unconscious before her body hit the dirty floorboards.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so now we know for sure it is Matt who controls the Kanima,” Stiles said as him and Scott made their way through the nightly streets by foot, neither of them trusting themselves to drive after the wolfsbane-laced punch they’d had at Lydia’s birthday party. “That’s pretty good progress so far. The only problem left is - how the hell are we gonna explain this to my dad?”

Scott didn’t answer. Without Stiles noticing it, his werewolf friend had fallen a few steps behind him.

“I don’t think he’ll react well to  _‘Hey Dad, Scott saw our 16-year-old classmate Matt standing next to Jackson who has turned into a deadly mythical lizard creature that Matt used to kill most of the 2006 swim team and its coach, so yeah, it would be cool if you could maybe arrest him.’_ , y’know?” Stiles continued. “So we gotta deliver a totally unsuspicious, non-supernatural explanation as to why we know Matt is the real killer, not Harris.” He huffed. “Any ideas, Scott?”

There was still no answer from the other boy. Stiles turned around. “ _Scott!”_

With a few short steps he was next to his friend who was crouched over on the pavement, both hands clutching his side and obvious pain written on his face.

“Scott, what’s the matter?” Stiles asked with a panicked expression. “You’re not going to wolf out on me, are you, buddy? Because since we are in the middle of a _very_ public street in a _very_ suburban neighbourhood it would probably not be good for either of us if you started ripping me to shreds now.”

“I’m fine,” Scott pressed out, his tone, posture and facial expression all indicating that he was  _anything but fine_.

“You sure?” Stiles questioned sceptically. “Don’t take this personal, but you look like shit. You’re really pale. And not the  _sexy-sparkling-vampire_  kind of pale but rather the  _“I’m-really-really-sick-and-will-die-very-soon”_ kind."

Scott slowly shook his head. “No, seriously. It’s already getting better.” He made a half-hearted attempt to get back on his feet, only to lose his balance and stumble right into Stiles’ arms.

“Yeah, I can see that,” the other boy stated as he pulled him into a standing position. “What the holy fuck was that?”

“I don’t know.” Scott’s breathing was still shallow, as if he’d just ran a mile, and for a moment Stiles was genuinely concerned that this friend’s asthma had returned. “I… didn’t – didn’t you hear that sound?”

“Dude, I didn’t hear anything,” Stiles told him honestly. “What did _you_ hear?”

Scott hesitated for a few moments. His gaze drifted up to the sky, searching for an answer, searching for _anything_. Then his eyes found the full moon, looming in the clear sky over them like a promise of death and pain and destruction.

“It was like a howl,” Scott whispered. “Loud and powerful, filling my head, forcing me to…” He stopped and shook his head again. When he looked back at Stiles, there was raw, cold fear in his eyes. “It sounded like a wolf calling for his pack.”

“Okay, so when you say  _wolf_ , do you mean  _wolf-wolf_ or-“

“That’s not all, Stiles,” Scott interrupted the human.

“Oh great, more bad news,” Stiles muttered. “Well then, shoot.”

Scott’s eyes wandered back to the moon again, as if they were drawn there by a force stronger than any of them could understand. When he spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “The moment the howling started I felt pain shooting through my body… a deep, burning sensation… right here.” He placed his hand on his side, a few inches over the hip.

Stiles’ eyes grew wide with horrible realization.

“You mean… right where Peter bit you?”

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

Dr Deaton knew he was too late the moment he stepped into the old Hale House. 

The layer of ash and dust on the wooden floor had been disturbed by the feet of multiple people recently. Deaton followed the footprints into what had been the living room in better times. His eyes wandered through the moonlit space, took in the arrangement of mirrors, the floorboards, torn out and carelessly thrown next to Peter Hale’s – now empty – grave. Finally, they came to a stop.

A sad sigh escaped Deaton’s lips as he crouched down next to Derek’s lifeless body. He had seen this boy grow up – only from afar, sure, but his close connection to the Hale family still made him feel like he had lost a relative himself.

Six years ago, Talia Hale had come to her emissary’s clinic in the dead of night, clearly upset and with a bad feeling about something she couldn’t quite grasp, asking Deaton to take care of her children, to be just as loyal towards them as he was towards her, just in case something should happen to her. A week later she was nothing more than burnt bones and ashes and Deaton swore to himself that he would stick to his promise and do his best to protect Laura and Derek.

Now both of them were dead. Deaton had failed.

Derek’s body was still warm and the small pool of blood surrounding his neck and head had not completely dried yet. His eyes were staring blankly through the hole in the roof at the clear sky and he was completely naked – Peter must’ve taken his nephew’s clothes. It was an undignified death – Derek might not have been the best person out there, but Deaton knew he didn’t deserve to end like this. Nobody did.

With a quick, steady movement the veterinarian closed the dead man’s eyes. Then he rose again. Looking around the room he noticed a white sheet – it had probably been covering one of the bigger mirrors – so he took it to wrap it around Derek’s body to give him a bit more dignity. It was the least he could do before he unceremoniously dragged the dead werewolf over to the hole in the ground and manoeuvred him into it with quite a few difficulties. Deaton wasn’t a weak man, but Derek was heavy.

He didn’t have much time, so he simply shoved some loose dirt back into the grave and put the wooden boards back in place after he was done. Derek's resting place wasn’t well hidden, but Deaton didn’t have much time and he strongly doubted anyone would come out here anytime soon.

Now it was time to try and keep the mess he hadn’t been able to stop from getting any worse. Deaton reached for his phone and dialled the number of the only person who could maybe stop Peter.

 

* * *

 

Isaac shifted in the old train seat he was chained to, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was no use. Well, at least he was sitting, unlike Erica and Boyd who were standing a few metres away from him, at the other end of the compartment. Erica was still wearing the headband that had been causing her agonizing pain the whole night – a futile attempt to keep her grounded, to keep her human.

Derek had been right – it had been a rough night for the three betas, even after Isaac had managed to gain relative control over his wolf. He had still felt the sweet pulling of the moon, the primal instinct that was coaxing the monster inside of him to the surface. Boyd and Erica hadn’t been helpful either, with their howling and screaming and struggling against the chains that bound them. The only two things that had kept Isaac’s mind clear were the memories of his father – the way he was when his mother and Camden were still alive, before all of… _it_ happened – as well as the sound of Derek’s steady heartbeat outside in the train depot.

It was almost funny – when Isaac met Derek for the first time, what seemed like a lifetime ago, he had been intimidated by this strong, brooding guy, scared even. Now he gave him a sense of security, of _family,_ like he hadn’t felt in years.

But then, sometime around midnight, something strange had happened.

It had started with footsteps coming down the stairs of the lair, so quiet Isaac barely heard them over the noise his packmates were making. He’d only noticed them when they’d come close to Derek and a second heartbeat was added to the rhythm of his Alpha’s. There was something spoken, a word, a name maybe… and then only silence. Derek had gone away with the other person and left his pack behind, stuck in their own personal hell without the support they needed so badly from him.

All three of them were human again by now. Isaac had no idea how much time had passed but he could already feel the moon's influence lessening, telling him that sunrise couldn't be more than two or three hours away. Derek still hadn’t returned to unchain them.

“I don’t think he’s coming back.” Boyd’s voice broke the silence.

Isaac opened his eyes. He’d been trying to get some sleep – the night seemed to have drained all of his energy and exhausted him like nothing before in his life – but he couldn’t relax enough to actually doze off.

“He _has_ to come back,” Erica objected sharply. Her make-up was badly smudged and she looked like she might not be able to stand straight if the shackles on her wrists didn’t keep her upright. “Why would he bother giving us the bite and training us only to let us rot in an abandoned train station in the end?” There was desperation in her voice.

“Maybe he got tired of us last night,” Isaac suggested, eyes stubbornly fixed on the rusty metal bar to his right. “Maybe he realized how much trouble looking after a bunch of hormonal, undisciplined teenage werewolves meant and he left us to find someone more worthy of receiving the bite.”

“Yeah, or maybe you just suffer from massive pathological fear of being left, idiot,” Erica retorted. But then her tone got softer. “I’m sure Derek will come back for us, Isaac. He’s probably just letting us wait to teach us another really important lesson about survival or something.” Isaac still didn’t look up but he could almost _feel_ Erica roll her eyes. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Isaac gave her a weak smile and nodded. He still worried. A lot, actually.

He wasn’t quite sure how much of it the other betas could feel but there was definitely something wrong. The other two had probably been too busy tearing at their restraints to notice it but an hour, maybe two after Derek had disappeared there had been a strange shift in their pack dynamic. It felt like a part of them – the part that meant safety, order and protection – had simply faded away. It was strange; until that moment Isaac had never been really aware of this supernatural mental connection he shared with his Alpha but now that it was gone the gap it left behind was painfully noticable.

Whatever had happened to Derek… there was _definitely_ reason to worry.

“Did you guys hear that?” Boyd asked suddenly.

Isaac lifted his head and listened. Indeed, he heard something. It sounded like…

“Footsteps!” Erica shouted out. “ _Finally_ he’s back! Thank god, I already thought I’d be the first person to actually die from boredom and standing in the same position for fucking _hours_.”

Boyd didn’t share her enthusiasm. His hands balled into fists and the muscles in his neck twitched nervously as he looked over to Isaac and said quietly: “That doesn’t smell like Derek.”

And he was right. The person coming down the stairs with slow, heavy steps smelled similar to Derek, but _not quite_ the same. There were traces of wet moss on a summer morning, of wood and smoke and ashes. But also blood and something else that Isaac couldn’t quite put into words, something that made the little hairs at the back of his neck stand up instinctively. A scent that warned everyone who crossed this man’s way that he was highly dangerous.

There was a predator closing in on them. And Isaac, Erica and Boyd were bound, helpless and completely at his mercy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> I've never done a multi-POV story before... I hope I didn't mess up too much.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks to all the people who read/bookmarked/left kudos. I'm kinda surprised that anyone is actually enjoying my incoherent babbling and I really appreciate all kinds of feedback :)

**Chapter 2**

 

Isaac’s claws dug into the armrests as he listened to the heavy footsteps coming closer to the train. His eyes darted over to Boyd and Erica who were frozen on the spot. None of the three betas dared to make a sound, although they all knew it didn’t matter. The man outside was a wolf, they could smell that; and even if _he_ didn’t smell _them_ he still had to be able to hear their thundering heartbeats loud and clear.

A moment later the door was opened and the stranger stepped into the dark compartment. He was probably in his mid-thirties and would’ve been handsome if it hadn’t been for the dirt encrusting his skin and hair and for the dried blood on the front of his shirt. The sharp edges of his mouth curved into a devious smile as he took in the sight of the three chained up, frightened teenagers in front of him.

“Well, well… what do we have here?”

The man’s voice gave Isaac shivers.

Isaac had always been good at judging moods, reading body language, figuring out whether a situation was dangerous or not – it was what helped him survive the last few years with his dad. And this guy? _Definitely_ dangerous.

Boyd was the first of them to speak up. His tone was calm but cautious.

“Who are you?”

The man’s eyes focused on him.

“Ah,” he exclaimed. “So you are the brave one.”

He took a few more steps towards them and Isaac could hear Boyd’s pulse skyrocketing. He couldn’t blame his pack mate. His own heart rate wasn’t any lower; neither was Erica’s. Despite his obvious fear, Boyd cleared his throat and told the intruder: “That wasn’t an answer.”

The man smirked and something about this smirk made Isaac _extremely_ uncomfortable.

“No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t. An honest answer to that question would be long and – to be honest – quite complicated and I really don’t think you’re up for an endless monologue, considering your current…“ His eyes flicked over the shackles on each of the beats’ wrists and ankles. “…situation. So for now, you can just call me Peter.”

By now he was standing in the middle of the compartment, halfway between Isaac and his two pack mates.

“That is Derek’s shirt,” Erica said suddenly, scrunching up her nose.

Peter turned around and raised his eyebrows at her.

“And you are obviously the observant one,” he said, closing in on her and reaching up to touch her face. “And also the beautiful one.”

The second Peter’s fingers touched Erica’s skin, there was a loud roar rattling the old train. Suddenly all eyes were on Boyd, who was all wolfed out, growling and flashing his fangs at Peter. He might have even managed to break out of his restraints if he hadn’t still been exhausted from the past night.

An amused expression crept on Peter’s face.

“I see…” he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else. “Don’t worry,” he told Boyd after a few moments. “I’d never dream of interfering with _young love_.” Then he turned around to face Isaac who shrunk back into his seat, desperately trying to make himself disappear into thin air. It didn’t work, of course. Werewolves might have a few useful powers, but that wasn’t one of them.

“So we have the queen.” Peter gestured vaguely in Erica’s direction. “And the brave knight.” Another gesture to indicate Boyd. “That leaves only you.” He leaned down into Isaac’s personal space, bracing his hands on the armrests left and right of the teen and making him feel more trapped than all the chains and shackles and freezers in the world ever could. “Who are _you_?”

Peter’s face was only inches away from Isaac’s and the boy couldn’t breathe. And then, something happened – something that hadn’t happened in years, something Isaac thought his father had beaten out of him a long time ago. His tongue took on a life of its own and he blurted out: “I’m the one who’s going to throw up on you if you don’t back up. You stink.”

He regretted the words the second they left his mouth. Telling a strange werewolf - who walked into your _supposedly secret_ layer sprinkled with blood while you were bound and completely defenceless - _that he stank_ was probably a really, really bad idea.

But now it was too late and Isaac's well exercised defence instincts kicked in. He pulled his head in between his shoulders, closed his eyes and waited for the well-deserved blow like he had done countless times in his life before. Except this time the hit didn’t come.

Instead there was short chuckle and a gentle hand lifting Isaac’s chin. When the teen looked up, he saw that the other man had moved even closer.

“I see, you are the jester.” Peter’s warm breath tickled Isaac’s ear as he whispered: “I always liked those.”

A finger brushed over Isaac’s lips and for a second he thought his heart was going to burst from fear and… something else.

But then Peter stood again.

“Coming back to your previous statement,” he said, addressing Erica. “This is indeed Derek’s shirt. Unfortunately I have to inform you that the blood on said shirt does also belong to Derek and that Derek is in no state to return to his pack anytime soon. Or ever.”

Isaac’s heart sank to his stomach as Peter confirmed what his instincts had already been telling him but his mind had stubbornly refused to belief until now – Derek was dead.

“But there is no need to be afraid, kids,” Peter continued in an almost cheerful manner. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.” He smiled his devious smile again. “I’m family.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Derek, I’m serious, when you hear this message call me _ASAP_.”

Scott ended the call. Him and Stiles were sitting in the waiting area of the Sheriff’s station, waiting for Scott’s mother to arrive and give a statement about how she had encountered Matt in the hospital the night the pregnant wife was murdered.  

“I don’t get this,” Scott told Stiles. “Why doesn’t he answer his phone?”

His friend shot him an annoyed look.

“I don’t know, but it might have something to do with the fact that it’s Boyd and Erica’s first full moon and Derek’s probably busy with not being torn to shreds right now. Let’s just forget about him for a moment and focus on developing a plan about what to do with Jackson once Matt is behind bars, yeah?”

Scott’s gaze was still resting on his phone.

“I also have four missed calls from Dr Deaton,” he said, frowning in confusion. “Maybe there’s an emergency at the animal clinic; I should probably…”

“No, you definitely _shouldn’t_!” Stiles interrupted him and snatched the cell from his hands with one quick motion. “We have _plenty_ of our own emergencies to deal with, okay? And I’m not talking about sick puppy emergencies, but about murderous vengeful teenage boy emergencies and bloodthirsty werelizard emergencies. There are also a lot of hunters threatening to kill you lately, just in case you’ve forgotten.”

Scott swallowed hard at the memory of his extremely unpleasant meeting with Victoria Argent at the rave a few days ago.

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”

Stiles patted him on the shoulder.

“Anytime, buddy.”

“But I’m still worried about Derek,” Scott continued after a few seconds, causing his best friend to sigh exasperatedly. “Whatever it was that I felt…” His hand unconsciously wandered back to his side, palming the spot where the scar from Peter’s bite would be if it wasn’t for werewolf healing abilities. “Something happened and I have a feeling it wasn’t something good. I should head over to the train depot and…”

For the second time this night, Stiles cut him off.

“ _No._ No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely no.” There was a tired look on the boy’s face. He sighed. “Listen, Scott. The thing is, your mom’s statement will be enough for my dad to get a warrant for Matt’s arrest, so they’ll hopefully have him locked up in a cell very soon. In a cell _in the station_. Where _my dad will be_. And probably also your mom because she is gonna have to identify Matt in person. And just in case Matt decides to call his pet killing machine for help, I’d feel better knowing there is someone standing between the kanima and our parents.” He avoided Scott’s gaze as he added: “Someone who can actually defend themselves. Not someone as frail and breakable and _human_ as me.”

Scott placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Stiles, you’re probably the last person I’d call _breakable,_ ” he said with a grin. “In the last ten years I’ve seen you fall down from somewhere or stumble over something or get hit by someone numerous times and you never broke a bone. Remember the time you slipped and fell down the stairs at school when we were twelve? I swear I actually saw you _bouncing_ when you hit the bottom.”

His words coaxed a small smile onto Stiles’ lips.

“But if it makes you feel better,” Scott continued, squeezing Stiles shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll stay here and have an eye on your dad.”

“Thanks, man,” Stiles answered and didn’t even hesitate to pull the other boy into a short hug. “And if it makes _you_ feel better I can head over to the train depot and check on Derek and the pack, alright?”

Scott smiled brightly.

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Mrs McCall!” Deaton shouted, stepping in the way of the dark haired woman who was quickly making her way out of the hospital. “What a coincidence! I was just going to go inside looking for you.”

“Dr Deaton”, Melissa answered, clearly surprised.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have any idea where Scott might be?” the veterinarian inquired. “I’ve been trying to reach him but he doesn’t answer his phone.”

Melissa blinked suspiciously at her son’s boss.

“Yes…” she replied after a few seconds. “Um, yes, he’s at the police station. I was just on my way there, too.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why? What do you want from my son in the middle of the night?”

Deaton smiled, but it was a forced and tense smile.

“Well, I don’t want to scare you, but it seems like your son might be in grave danger,” he told the shocked woman. She opened her mouth but Deaton silenced her with a wave of his hand. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Mrs McCall… but Scott has been keeping a secret from you. It’s a long and complicated story – and I think it’s time you hear all of it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“He killed him.” Erica’s voice was shaking with anger and disbelief. “He actually _killed Derek_.”

“Yes, you got that completely right, darling,” Peter answered smiling. “But you should keep in mind that Derek killed me first.”

“After you killed his sister,” Boyd threw in.

There was a flash of darkness darting over Peter’s face.

“I told you, I wasn’t in my right mind back then.” He sighed. “Did you even listen to my story?”

“I think their point is,” Isaac explained without looking at Peter, “that it is a bit much to come here, tell us you have brutally murdered your niece and nephew and then expect us to trust you enough to join your pack.”

 “Except that joining my pack would be the only reasonable thing for you to do!” Peter hissed, switching from charming to angry within seconds.

 _Unpredictable mood swings,_ Isaac thought. _Damn. I hate unpredictable mood swings._

“You need an Alpha, especially right now,” the man continued. “I might have been out of commission for a few weeks but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s been going on in this town. Lizard people? Geriatric psycho hunters? Don’t even get me started on you three!” He spun around once, throwing a glance at each of the betas. “Two of you can’t even control their shift yet. That should’ve been the first thing for Derek to teach you!”

“He was busy,” Erica said fiercely, tilting her chin up.

“He was an incompetent Alpha,” Peter retorted, rolling his eyes. “Agree to join me and I’ll promise you we’ll get rid of the kanima, its master and the hunters _and then_ I’ll teach you how to use your powers in ways you can’t even imagine.”

There was a sparkling in Peter’s eyes. Isaac wasn’t sure if it was passionate or straight out insane.

“How can we be sure that you won’t just slice our throats or rip us in two like you did with Derek and Laura?” Boyd demanded.

“Oh please, what reason would I have?” Peter crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I killed Laura and Derek because I needed their Alpha powers to survive. Now what I need to survive is a _pack_. Betas make an Alpha stronger. I need you just as much as you need me – and by killing you I would just damage myself.” A wolfish grin crept on Peter’s face. “Of course I would never dream of forcing any of you to stay with me. You’re free to reject my proposal and live as omegas. Maybe you’ll even survive until the next full moon without being caught, tortured and killed by the hunters. Or the kanima. Or something else out there. Who knows?”

That was the moment Isaac realized Peter had already won. They were by no means prepared to face the supernatural madness around them on their own and while he didn’t trust Peter at all he knew that this guy could offer them something they desperately needed: protection.

Isaac had lived under the same roof as a man he didn’t trust for years. He could do it again, if he had to.

He bit his lip.

“If you want to gain our trust unchaining us would be a good start,” he told Peter calmly. “I’ve been sitting here for hours and frankly, I don't feel my ass anymore."

Peter watched the boy with an almost hungry expression.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I can do that.” Then he leaned closer to Isaac and the hungry look on his face got even more prominent. “Although I have to admit that 'bound and blushing' is a very good look for you.”

Isaac shivered as Peter’s fingers brushed over the back of his hand. He had a feeling the _real_ trouble was only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I decided to tag this Peter/Isaac because they are my current guilty pleasure ship and while there is not much going on between them at this point there definitly will be some action later on. So if you don't like the pairing this story probably isn't for you and you might wanna stop reading after this chapter.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long to post. I could give you a lot of excuses - college being hell, me moving into a new apartment - but the truth is, I was just lazy and couldn't concentrate on a single task like writing for more than 30 minutes.  
> Sorry again. I hope the smut you've probably all been waiting for makes up for the long wait ;)

**Chapter 3**

 

Melissa McCall kept her eyes straight on the road as she was speeding towards the police station.

“So,” she said after a few seconds of silence. “I do realize that there have been some _very_ strange things happening in Beacon Hills lately. Can’t argue with that. But are you seriously trying to tell me that cause for all the animal attacks and murders and whatnot are a _group of kids who turn into supernatural creatures_ including _my son_?

With all due respect, Dr Deaton, I think you are watching too much TV.”

Deaton smiled at her from the passenger’s seat. He hadn’t expected her to believe him immediately. At least she was calm and not yelling at him or kicking him out of her car.

“It’s actually a lot more complex than that but for now you delivered a pretty good summary.” His smile faded. “I know it sounds completely crazy, but it is extremely important for you to believe me when I tell you that your son Scott is indeed a teenage werewolf.”

Melissa’s face showed no reaction but Deaton noticed her slim hands clutching the steering wheel a little harder.

“Well, at least he is not a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle,” she joked dryly. “That would’ve seriously disturbed me.”

If they were in a different situation Deaton would’ve admired the woman’s dry humour, but now wasn’t the time for that. He still hadn’t told her about finding Derek Hale’s dead body, or about how he assumed that the creature that had attacked her son and turned him into a werewolf might be back from the dead and roaming the town.

“So,” Melissa continued, “assuming I believe your hilarious story – I don’t say I do, by the way, but let’s just talk purely hypothetically for a moment – what’s _your_ part in all of this? Like… you are some sort of mentor for Scott? The Mr Miyagi to his Karate Kid?"

Now Deaton couldn’t help the smile that crept upon his face.

“Oh, come on, Mrs McCall. Which one of us is watching too much TV now?”

* * *

 

Peter sighed as he stepped out of what Derek’s former pack had the audacity to call a _bathroom._ It was basically the train’s old bathroom stall, equipped with a canister of fresh water, a stained mirror and a bottle of liquid soap. He hadn’t expected any sense of interior design from Derek but this? This was just unacceptable.

But he didn’t really have another option if he wanted to get his nephew’s blood and the dirt from his own grave from his skin, so Peter complied for the moment.

He walked out into the cold air of the train depot clad with only a towel slung around his hips – at least they had some of those! – his chest and shoulders still glistening with water when his eyes feel on one of the boys, sitting on the edge of the old, worn sofa someone had dragged into the dark underground structure. _Isaac_ , Peter’s mind supplied. He had seen the betas’ faced through Lydia’s eyes, but their names were new for him.

The other two kids were nowhere to be seen, but Peter could faintly hear their voices whispering to each other from somewhere in the depot.

Isaac slowly shrunk back into the cushions of the sofa, eying Peter wearily as the older man approached him with a wide smile.

“You don’t happen to know where my nephew kept his spare clothes, do you?” he asked, coming to a halt in front of the boy. “I’m not really eager to put on the bloody, smelly rags I arrived in, to be honest.”

Isaac just stared up at Peter, seemingly frozen. His lips parted a little but not a word came out.

Just as Peter was about to roll his eyes at the boy’s inability to form a coherent sentence, Isaac took a deep breath and blurted out: “I don’t like you wearing Derek’s clothes.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Is that so?”

“You spoil Derek’s scent,” Isaac explained, a burning spark of anger in his look. His fierce loyalty was almost admirable. Too bad it was directed towards a dead man.

“So you’d rather have me naked then?” Peter inquired with an amused grin, his hand darting to the hem of the towel as if he was about to take it off and toss it away.

Isaac’s eyes grew wide with terror.

“No!” he said quickly. “Absolutely not.”

The vocal response might have been a negative one, but the faint musky smell hinting sudden arousal coming from the boy and his racing heartbeat betrayed him.

Well, seemed like Derek hadn’t been a _completely_ clueless idiot when he decided to turn a bunch of horny, hormonal teenagers. It certainly did have an advantage or two…

With two quick steps he closed in on Isaac, leaning down and essentially trapping the beta between his half-naked body and the sofa.

“Just a piece of advice, Isaac,” he whispered, hungrily looking his future beta up and down. “If you want to lie to a werewolf, you should learn to control you heart rate first.” He placed his hand on Isaac’s chest, just above the drumming, treacherous organ. “Although that wouldn’t be of much use in this case. I can smell you getting hard right now.”

Isaac answered with a short, hitching breath as Peter’s hand wandered lower, down the boy’s stomach, fingers softly grazing the small stripe of skin that was showing between the hem of Isaac’s shirt and the waistband of his boxers.

“You can answer honestly,” Peter told him. “Would you like to see me naked?” The beta closed his eyes and threw his head back with a moan as Peter’s hand found Isaac’s crotch, palming him through his jeans.  He leaned even further down, bringing his mouth close to Isaac’s ear. “Because _I_ certainly wouldn’t mind relieving _you_ of your clothes.”

It hadn’t seemed possible, but Isaac’s heart began to beat even faster and his breath grew shallow with excitement. For a moment Peter was actually worried that the boy might pass out under his hands but then Isaac looked up at him through his long lashes, an adorable blush creeping into his cheeks, and mumbled shyly: “You can, if you want to. Take off my clothes, I mean.” Then he broke eye contact, equally surprised by and ashamed of what had just come out of his mouth.

Peter’s grin got even wider. Seemed like Isaac was not only a hormonal teenager, but also a virgin, from the way he was acting. Good. That would make Peter’s work a lot easier. He had won this game before it had really started. Now was the time to have some fun.

With quick movements Peter opened Isaac’s belt, pulled his zipper down and unceremoniously tugged at jeans and boxers at the same time. Isaac was eager to lift his ass and let the older man pull the garments off, leaving him exposed from waist to mid-thigh and blessing Peter with the glorious sight and smell of teenage arousal.

Isaac was hard and warm and slick with precome and Peter noticed his own erection slowly starting to tent his towel as he grabbed the boy’s length and started to stroke him slow, sure movements.

After a few seconds, Isaac’s lids fluttered shut and a hissed “ _God, yeah”_ escaped his lips.

Peter grabbed the other’s wrists with his free hand and pinned them above Isaac’s head.

“Look at me!” he ordered. It came out more aggressive, with more of a growl than he had intended and he could see the shudder running through Isaac’s lean body, but to his surprise the boy obeyed without hesitation.

“Do you enjoy this, Isaac? Do you like being touched by a complete stranger? Turns you on, huh?”

“Yeah,” Isaac moaned, desperately bucking into Peter’s hand to get him to raise the speed. “God, Peter…”

“Feel’s better when it’s someone else’s hand than when it’s your own, doesn’t it?”

Isaac nodded frantically, biting his bottom lip and seemingly unable to form a sentence as Peter started pumping him slightly faster.

“Now just imaging how amazing it would feel to have a warm, wet mouth on your cock. A skilled tongue, almost driving you to insanity with soft, slow licks…”

A weird combination between a moan and a needy whine came from Isaac. The sound made Peter grin with satisfaction.

“Would you like that?”

“Yes…” Isaac breathed heavily. “Please, yes… oh my…”

“You can have it, Isaac,” Peter continued to coo. “You can have that and a lot more.” The hand he was jerking Isaac with stilled suddenly and the boy let out a frustrated groan. “There is just one thing you’ll have to do for me in exchange.”

Isaac’s eyes found Peter’s and the desperate look in them was most entertaining. The teen _knew_ he was being used, being manipulated, but Peter had driven him to a point where his cock had won the battle over his brain.

Yes, horny teenagers _definitely_ had their advantages.

“Submit to me,” Peter told Isaac bluntly, his voice still soft and charming. “It’s a good deal, don’t you think? Just submit to me and I will take care of you. _In every single way_. Juat think about what I can offer you - protection from the hunters, knowledge about werewolf culture and power, and a lot of fantastic sex as bonus.”

“Yes,” Isaac whispered. Never looking away from Peter’s face, he slowly began to tilt his head back, exposing the long, pale line of his throat.

Peter’s wolf howled in triumph. He rewarded Isaac with a soft, genuine smile.

“Don’t be scared,” he told the shivering beta, letting go of Isaac’s wrists and softly petting his curls instead, lowering his head to lock his fangs around Isaac’s throat, just hard enough to break the skin and draw a few drops of blood, making Isaac officially part of his pack in the process. "It's only going to hurt for a second."

Just when he was close enough to smell the salty red liquid beneath Isaac’s skin, Peter heard a sound.

Isaac didn’t notice it, he was too lost in his arousal, but there were footsteps coming down the stairs.

Just a second before the old iron door was pushed open with a rusty noise, Peter spun around, quickly adjusting his towel and greeting the intruder with a wide grin. He could only imagine the horrified expression on Isaac’s face when the teen realized what was happening and hastily scrambled up to cover himself.

“What a nice surprise,” Peter said cheerfully. “Long time, no see. Hello, Stiles!”

* * *

 

Scott felt the cold metal of a gun’s barrel pressing against his temple and he couldn’t help but wonder how his life had become such a mess. A few months ago, his biggest problems had been bad grades, being benched at lacrosse, and not having a girlfriend.

Then came the bite that turned everything upside down and now he was being held at gunpoint by his sixteen year old classmate Matt. All the deputies who had been unfortunate enough to be in the station that night were dead, slaughtered by the kanima at Matt’s orders. Sheriff Stilinski was chained to the wall and unconscious. Scott’s mother would be here any moment to give a statement. Matt, drunk on power and his insane thirst for revenge, tried to get Allison to come to the station, too, to bring him the Beastiary he needed for god knows what reason.

There was a sick feeling in Scott’s stomach. He  _had_  to keep Matt from hurting his mom or Allison or the Sheriff. He had to stop Matt from hurting  _anyone_  else.

Maybe he could do it. He was a werewolf, after all. Maybe he could lash out and knock Matt out before the other boy had time to react and pull the trigger. Yes, that could work. But if it didn’t… then Scott would be dead and there would be nobody standing in between the kanima and all those innocent people.

It took Scott only a fraction of a second to decide that he couldn’t risk that.

His hands trembled with anger and he had to clench them into fists to prevent his claws from showing. Why did it have to be like this?

Scott didn’t want anyone else to die. He couldn’t stand all the blood and the cries and the constant fighting anymore. Why couldn’t life be like a Disney movie where the bad guys were easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, the good guys always saved the day and no one ever died and everybody lived happily ever after?

He sighed. Guess life just wasn’t that easy.

At least Stiles wasn't here. He hadn't been to eager to let the human go check on Derek and his pack on his own, but looking back, it had been the best decision of the evening. Scott’s current situation was still awful and potentially deadly, but at least his best friend was safe. That was worth something, wasn’t it?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> This was my first time writing something even remotely smutty, so I hope I didn't screw up too bad!  
> Also, sorry for the Buffy quote. It just fit in so perfectly and I couldn't resist.


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